


Flames of Twilight

by Sinriona (Zesraer)



Series: Descendants of the Twilight [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3622581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zesraer/pseuds/Sinriona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Age of Twilight has come and two dragons find themselves fighting beside Deathwing. When the tides of battle change, each finds herself in a situation that could potentially change her opinion of her chosen side. Will each survive the Cataclysm?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flames of Twilight

An egg, to many it is a form of infinite possibilities. Within the fragile shell lies limitless potential, countless life paths for the individual within to take. Or so everyone says. As someone who has been inside that egg, in that position of infinite possibility, let me tell you something. That very idea, as lovely as it is, is idealistic and sucks. It is a lie, there is no infinite possibility when you are the one in the egg, your fate is determined by the ones who watch over you, the ones who will eventually oversee your hatching. And that fate is almost impossible to escape, I am one of the few who did and am still facing the consequences of my upbringing. I doubt I can ever fully wash the blood from my claws, escape the shadow left behind by my “father.”

In the beginning there was darkness, deeper than any abyss and full of pain. I still dream of those dark days, still wake up screaming in memory of what I had gone through. The others have reassured me that with time these memories will fade and perhaps I will even regain the memories that came before, memories before the interference of time and egg thieves. Memories of a better time, without pain and cold sinister dark. Apparently the darkness of an egg is supposed to be comforting, warm and reassuring. All dragons are supposed to remember their time before hatching that way, but I fear those memories were stolen from me before they could cement themselves within my mind. Stolen by devilish white sparks and rifts, stolen by those who delivered me to my father.

My first memories were of the white sparks within my egg, of the jostling of movement. It was in these memories that I developed my life long goal of striving for independence. For even to a young mind such as mine that no one cared for me in this place. Why else would they create all this pain? Each time they moved my egg, it was done without care. I remember the pain associated with the movement, as my small form was bumped against the harsh sides of my egg. Fragile as those sides were, to a small undeveloped dragon the eggshell was hard enough to break and bruise my form. And then the white sparks, they stole what little memory I had of the time before, they made me smaller, weaker. They were aspects of time, small rifts and holes meant to keep me regressed in my form until the time came for me to change. But all I knew then was that they were wrong, that they were taking something vital from me. As the first spark hit me, I opened my jaws to call out but the liquid around me allowed no noise to break forth. Nothing could hear me, nothing would help me. It was just me and the sparks, and with every passing moment there was less and less of me to fight against them. Soon all that was left was pain. I had all but disappeared, only the smallest hint of me remained.

I don’t know how long it took for me to redevelop my consciousness, but when I did I was used to the pain of the sparks. For some reason they never took my memory of them, even if they took everything else. I knew that they took my memories and forced me back into my beginning self countless times. That had erased days, weeks, months perhaps even years of me and replaced them with pain and only pain. But this time was different, the sparks slowly were disappearing, I was starting to grow again. And it was with the sparks disappearance that the pain truly began.

“Only one measily clutch? Out of the hundreds that existed! You fail our master Infinite, he will not be pleased. He ordered all of them were to be reclaimed. How can he start a flight without eggs?” The first voice I remember was deep and dark, hard like the shell that surrounded and imprisoned me. It was the very opposite of what I assumed the air to feel like, what I hoped it felt like. It’s rough sound reminded me of the pain I went through day to day, I had associated it with the movement of my egg, for it had always been there. It was my caretaker, but in his hands I felt anything but safe.

“We tried, if you wish to blame someone blame his son. The brute left the eggs in the open, free to be crushed by those meddlesome adventurers who were more than happy to. After all, these eggs were corrupted, their siblings had wrecked unfathomable havoc on the mortal races. Of course the adventurers took precautionary steps to prevent their hatching, it was just one more way to avenge their losses.” This voice was lighter, more melodic. It suited my interpretation of the mystic air outside of my egg except for one thing, while the other voice was my keeper who did not give me a sense of security, this one terrified me more than pain. It reminded me of the white sparks, of what I had lost. I knew I could never confirm it, but this being was the master of the sparks, I knew it with every fibre of my young being.

“Misordori, know that you and your flight will need to choose a side soon. This war waits for no one. My master shall make his move soon, with or without your kin. He would like you to be on our side, for your talents are….. useful. However he will not hesitate to destroy you should you get in his way. The Old Gods did not groom him to have mercy.” My keeper speaks again his voice growling warningly. I can feel his footsteps as he moves around the Outside of Egg, they vibrate through my shell and create more pain.

The air voice responds, its owner was closer to my egg than before. “We of the Infinite are not ones for joining the wars of other beings. Ours is strictly a war of time. However, certain new developments within your plan have changed our minds, more specifically mine and that of our Aspect.” I can feel a slight warmth on the edge of my egg, as if something was touching the outer shell. “This egg is interesting, after all it is the second time its occupant has travelled the time ways. She is marked by them, and will influence them throughout her life. Not many beings besides the Infinite and Bronze flights can do that. This one is destined for greatness of some sort, whether it be for your master or another is unclear even to me.”

I hear a muffled snort, and the hard voice responds. “As long as you and yours are with us, I would hate to have my master as an enemy. He represents his own masters and they have little time for others to dawdle choosing sides. It is intriguing you are so drawn to this single egg, I don’t know if your prophecy will hold true but I do hope that that one does survive. We need more warriors.”

“Oh she will, that much I know. The Infinites will be watching over her, we are intrigued to see how this egg will develop.”

“It sounds as though you intend to take a personal interest Misordori. It isn’t like you, distance is more your forte. Something must have really peaked your interest.”

“One of the Infinites is to act as an Ambassador and stay here in Grim Batol. I will be that Ambassador between the flights, you might say I have a personal interest. My interest in an invested one, I have helped you get her here. I would like to make sure that you keep her alive.” The warm moves across the shell of my egg, caressing the outside possessively.

“I will inform my master of your decision. Welcome to Grim Batol Lady Misordori. I cannot offer you much in the way of splendor, certainly not what you are used to but let one of us know if you require anything. I suggest you follow me out of the nursery now, for the eggs need to begin their treatment. It is not something for a lady such as yourself to witness.” The warmth leaves my egg, and I hear steps fading into the distance.

I rest easy, I hated the times when the hard voice of my keeper disturbed my otherwise calm peaceful day, there was very little to do when you are floating in an egg after all. But as much as I hated my keeper, I was not afraid of him. Somehow I was certain that one day I would be able to make him pay for bring my egg here, away from where I was supposed to be. The airy voice though, that was the one that struck my heart with terror, turning the world bitter with every breath. This Misordori was the being to fear between the two of them, and worse she seemed connected to my past. The past that was stolen from me and perhaps only she knew all the answers. It seemed as though our fates would be tied, for I wanted to know those answers but first I needed to get out of here. I could do nothing from inside an egg.

I begin to move within my egg, try to break the tough shell. My drive to find out what was out there overrode my instincts which were telling me that it was not the time yet, that I couldn’t hatch. I can feel the egg moving as I do, shaking as I hit the outer shell. So preoccupied was I with breaking free, I did not notice the new footsteps within the hatchery. They were so light that they did not register in vibrations upon my egg’s shell. I only noticed when the cold, slimy and just generally bad feeling washed over me, coming from the shell. Whatever was touching my egg was so wrong, was so horrid that it froze me in disgust. This thing was the very opposite of what I was, was the very opposite of life. It was the very antithesis of what my people were, who ever they were. The idea of this being touching my egg curdled my blood and I wanted to fight to scream. Yet again my egg acted as a blockade to my intentions, I was weak, not even hatched yet. I was immobile, I could do nothing against the wrong thing that currently held me. Outside I hear sounds, not understandable to my developing earplates. However as the sounds occur, a voice echos their meaning in my mind, invasive and wrong. I cannot block it, cannot keep the pain it causes away either. My mind feels like it is shattering with each word.

“Maq. Shg sk’shuul yawifk shn’. Thyzak uq sk’yehglu.” _Stop. The outside world is poison to you, you are not ready yet dragonling. Stay inside and take the strength we prepare to give you. For it is your blood right, chosen one of the Old Gods._

Slowly as the whispers creep into my mind, something begins to change the liquid in my egg. It is worse than the sparks that used to inhabit it. This wrong liquid sticks to my scales, coating them in wrongness, nothingness. This wrongness eats away at the color there, the ruby that was once present and replaces it with the color of an inky Void. Where is burns away color all I can feel is agony, more extreme than any I had felt in my young life. Greater than I have ever felt since, save once. I thrash within my egg, trying to avoid the wrong liquid but now all the liquid around me was murky and wrong. Terrifying images begin to flash through my mind with every touch of my now foul surroundings, flashes of dark dragons and faceless monsters all surrounded by an ever darkening Void.

"Gul'kafh an'shel. Yoq'al shn ky ywaq nuul." _Gaze into the Void. It is the perpetuity in which they dwell. See their strength, and rejoice in the future that they bring. Join them and have victory, oppose them and suffer defeat. Your fate is theirs to command now._

__

I squirm in my egg, the liquid bonds that tethered me there kept me from breaking free. I needed to hatch, better death than this. The agony was too great and I could feel every aspect of it without the relief of losing consciousness.

“Plahf” _Submit to them, know the message of the Old Gods with all your heart and soul dragonling. Forget the past. Your previous flight does not matter. Erase all intentions of rejoining them. You belong to the Old Gods now and the Twilight. Let the ruby of your scales melt into the glorious Void. For now you serve a greater purpose. Forget the other flights, they have done nothing but bring a dictatorship to this world. Their efforts to Order the glorious Chaos are wrong, for Chaos is our natural state. Look at how often they fail._

__

“Kyth” _Those of the bronze scale, charged with time. Look how they have failed. The Infinite flight still triumphs in the timelines, look at how they brought you here. Those of the Bronze scale fall to their corruption, or at least lose themselves within the timelines themselves. Even their Aspect cannot find his way through time, he was lost for years useless to his flight. Pathetic._

__

The images in my head turn to the Bronze Wyrms, I watch as they fall to their Infinite counterparts and their numbers depleted as the numbers of their corrupted brethren rose. Nozdormu failing to return to the present as the timelines fought against him, Murozond laughing as his counterpart failed to complete his mission time and time again. Soridormi’s slow corruption into the Infinite Misordori and her stealing of my egg. I watched as she took me from my broodmother just as hope for her eggs rebloomed in her eyes. I locked her face into my memory, I would find my broodmother if I survived this. Now I had a face to blame for my separation from my broodmother, Misordori the Infinite Queen. Her interest in me was ever more chilling, now that I knew what she represented.

“Kyth.” _The azure of scale hardly exist at all. Their charge of watching over the magic of this world was pointless. Look how the elves fell to arcane corruption, how they cannot survive without the spark of magic. Or how trying to control the mortal use of magic nearly destroyed the flight. The mighty Blues are a myth, slain by the Aspects of Life and Earth at every turn._

In my mind I see the great Blue dragonflight fall before a giant Black Wyrm wielding a disk of pure golden light. I watched as their knowledge of magic failed them and they fell from the sky in great droves, only leaving a single equally giant Blue Wyrm alive. The next images that came were of this Wyrm’s mind breaking and shattering with his loss and his hatred of all mortals with magics. I saw him order what little remained of his flight to destroy the mortal’s connection to the arcane, saw the start of the Nexus war. I saw the mortal spellcasters rise up, along with dragons of ruby scales like mine. I watched as ruby clashed with azure and gradually won. Never did I see the face of those of the ruby scale but I watched as they killed the Blue Wyrm. The Magic Aspect failed his mission, his magic lead him to madness.

“Kyth.” _The emerald dragons do naught but dream the years away. Lost in slumber, dreaming of their utopian world. This dream world of theirs is free of mortals, they see the corruption inherent in the other races of this world. They understand that the order they seek cannot exist with the mortals of this world. Perhaps that is why they slumber, but lost as they are in Dream, they cannot even protect their realm. The Nightmares encroach upon its edges and get more powerful every year._

__

I watch as a giant Green Wyrm slumbers, lost to the world due to her charge. Of the few glimpses I see of her awake, none are heartening. I see her order her flight to ward mortals away from the cursed ruins of a sunken temple, yet many fall to the monument’s god, including one of her strongest members. This monstrous green behemoth succombs to the madness of Nightmare, which in turn lets the very things he was supposed to be guarding escape. I watch as more of the greatest greens fall before the Nightmare, four more higher ranking Emerald dragons failing their charge. I watch as the Green Wyrm is captured in her own Dream by Nightmare and must rely upon the mortal races to save her and her kin. Even so I watch as the redeemed mad wyrm from the temple sacrificed himself to save her. And all through this, the wilds of the world fell to destruction. Another charge failed.

“Kyth.” _Those of the obsidian scale, oh what promise they held. Their leader Neltharion promised to aid us in bringing our goals back to Azeroth but his flight. His flight was the disappointment. They could not handle the knowledge we gave them, could not handle our whispers. So weak as they were, they fell to madness. They have no respect for others, cannot take orders. Look as they kill one another for their own simple pleasure. No they would take no direction and thus were useless in the end. So much potential wasted._

I watch as Neltharion, the great Black Aspect, heeds the whispers in his mind. He cuts a swath of death and destruction through Azeroth, protecting the Earth from mortals and dragons alike. The dragons who were unfaithful to their charges fell beneath his wrath. However his flight failed to meet expectations. I watched as the hierarchy of the Black flight fell without Neltharion’s reinforcement. They let Neltharion fall to the other Aspects, losing due to their lack of coordination and care for their brethren. I watched the children of Neltharion fall deeper into madness and debauchery. I saw them fall along with his consort but I saw Neltharion rise again, this time as Deathwing. This time as the father of my flight.

“Gul’kath. Vwyq maq zzof sk’wah ye’glu.” _Gaze upon the ultimate failure, your previous winged brethren, those of the ruby scale. Charged with the protection of Life with their Aspect bearing the name of Dragonqueen. Yet look at this world, wartorn and teeming with death. Where was the Dragonqueen when the Scourge murdered countless innocents? Where was she when the mortal races declared war on one another? She has done nothing to stop war in this world, even more so she has ordered her flight to kill countless beings including her own brethren. Her flight endlessly hunts her Obsidian kinsmen, and did they not murder the Azure Aspect? How can the Aspect of Life condone so much death?_

I watch as scene after scene of the Reds’ failures flash through my mind. Never enough to differentiate between the individual dragons. I watched again as Malygos fell, as countless Black dragons were murdered by Reds. Yet on the mortal battlefields, not a single Red could be seen. Thousands of mortals died but the only red in each battle was the crimson of spilt blood. The Reds were self absorbed, only caring about their own flight. They only protected their own and slowly I felt a burning begin in my chest. It grew quickly into a roaring flame of hatred for my old flight, for my broodmother. For even though I could not feel individuals, I knew within my heart if her entire flight was corrupt then so she would be.

“Fssh” _Join us in our glory. Embrace your destiny, take on the cloak of Twilight. It is your true nature! Unite with the Old Gods, help further their mission._

__

The whispers in my head increase drastically. They still feel as though they are shattering my mind with each syllable but I no longer care. For the hatred for the other flights, the useless dragons of this world, burned within my breast. My flight would rule, my flight would be triumphant. We would bring the coming Twilight, we would rewrite the world.

* * *

I lost track of the times that the whispers came to me, in their oily way. Gradually they became less and less painful until they were a mild irritant. I stopped noticing the wrongness of the liquid of my egg every time the whispers appeared, and soon other whispers melded with my mind. Soon they told me that they were the Old Gods themselves. Iso’rath was the loudest but the others each contributed to the whispers.

As the whispers grew louder, I grew larger. I could sense the time for me to hatch growing ever nearer. The anticipation for the day that I could prove myself to the whispers was sweet. I wanted a role in this world and I would change it for the better. Twilight would come to the world and with it the purity of Chaos.

And finally that day came, the day that my egg was far too small. When there was no option but to break free from the enclosed world that had housed me for so long. I coil into a ball before striking at what I had determined to be the weakest point of my shell, my claws bit deep into its surface. Slowly but surely cracks begin to appear in the surface and the shell began to give way. All that remained to be done was breaking free, and with one final push I was out in the world. As my shell fragmented, my snout ran into another shell. This one was harder, and not rounded to my body. I snarl and try to claw this shell away too but my claws are ineffective. How could I have been so strong in my egg and yet so weak out here in the Not Egg? I hiss, starting at the noise. Never before had I made noise, I had a voice just like all the other beings of this world!

I try to roar my triumph into the nursery, yet what comes out is more of a screech. It echoes off the strange shell above me, and I look around. There are a few other Twilight scaled whelps like me already hatched but most of the eggs were still hatching. I disliked being on the hard shell, I felt vulnerable and in the open. Some of the other hatchlings had begun to stretch their wings, drying them off and taking a few test stretches. Soon they would be in the air, and they would have an advantage over those on the ground. I intended to be one of the first to exploit that advantage.

I begin to beat my wings, willing the goop on them to disappait. It was falling from them, and they were drying, however it was too slow for my taste. I wanted to fly now! The first of the others were beginning to take to the air, and they started to prey upon the weak hatchlings still on the ground. The time to fly was now, either that or die by flame. My wings were dry and not a second too soon, because as soon as I lifted off the ground a ball of purple flame crashed into the rock where I had previously been.

I look to my attacker, another whelp who had taken down several of our weaker kin. His over confidence would be his undoing though. It was a flaw and it was one that would not be tolerated within my flight. The discipline needed to follow the whisperings we heard in the egg was not there. I follow his flight path and send a calculated burst of fire to where I predicted he would be next. I let out a slight trill as he falls to the ground, his left wing and chest burning with purple fire.

The other flying whelps begin to attack those who are slow to hatch, making sure the weaker members did not survive to corrupt the strength of the Twilight. Very few of the late hatchers made it into the air, and even fewer survived to the end of the fight. Out of the fifty or so hatchlings that started the battle, ten of us survived. If we hadn’t tired out so quickly, I believe even less of us would have survived the battle.

Once the last of us had landed on the ground in exhaustion, two figures entered the hatchery. The first is a large being, covered in black hair. Scars covered his face, err snout. Long horns arched from his brow. From the memories shown to me by the whispering voices, I knew the name for this creature, he was a tauren. The bovine species of the Horde, they were normally a peaceful race but given the right motivation they were quite terrifying.

“So you have finished. Unfortunate that more of your brood didn’t survive. At least we know these whelps are strong.” The tauren speaks up, I recognize the voice as my keeper, the dark voiced one who spent every day making sure that our eggs made it to hatching. “Lady Misordori, did your time traveler survive?”

The second figure steps forward, vastly different from the animalistic bovine before me. Misordori was a tall lithe humanoid with pointed ears and golden hair. Eight horns crown her head and centered between them was a magnificent blue gem. This was the Infinite Queen in her mortal guise, that of a high elf. She, along with her companion, was dressed in loose fitting cloth of purple and black shades.

She surveys the room, and smiles when her eyes alight upon me. “I would expect nothing less.” She addresses me before turning to the tauren. “She flies there, the one covered in lacerations and burns but still holds her own against her more whole siblings. This one will be strong, mark my words. I was right to keep an eye on her.”

  
The tauren gestures for us “Follow me whelps, it is time for your training. Prepare to join the Twilight dragonflight and fulfill your purpose.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all first fan fiction for World of Warcraft and first that I have published in a long time. Criticism welcomed but please make it constructive.  
> <3 Sinriona


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